


under pressure

by amajikiis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Beauxbatons, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Français | French, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Murder, Mutual Pining, Requited Love, english isn't my first language, kinda shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:26:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amajikiis/pseuds/amajikiis
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Original Female Character
Kudos: 1





	under pressure

SETTING A FIRE in the dining chamber was not something on Sahar’s bucket list. Or rather, did not occur to her to put on her bucket list; it was actually an unforeseen consequence of Nadia’s last idea on her Top Ten Things To Do Before Graduating Beauxbatons list.  
Nadia—Sahar’s younger sister by a half hour and self-proclaimed partner in crime—was the main cause of the malfunctioning fireworks in the dining chamber.  
“This is the best idea I’ve had yet,” Nadia waved her hands around in excitement.  
She had invited herself into Sahar’s shared dorm, leaning against the door frame. At just five foot four, Nadia was a fireball, always trying to come up with something to build up her growing reputation.  
“If we’re expelled for this, it’s your fault,” Sahar warned Nadia, leaning against the wall as Nadia took a seat on her bed, making herself comfortable, only making it more untidy.  
“Trust me, we won’t get expelled. The worst-case scenario is getting suspended, or as Madame Maxime would like to call it, put on a break,” Nadia shrugged nonchalantly, not a care in the world. It seemed as if it hadn’t quite registered in her brain the dire circumstances regarding the possibility of a mistake. But then again, Nadia had never gotten into serious trouble before.  
“Did you forget my track record isn’t the cleanest?” Sahar raised an eyebrow at Nadia, who wasn’t paying attention. She was reading one of the few books placed next to Sahar’s bed, 1984 by George Orwell.  
The majority of the books in Sahar’s dorm belonged to Hedy, her roommate, who loved to read, harboring a soft spot for Muggle classics.  
At Beauxbatons, students’ parents could choose their dorms beforehand, effectively choosing who their child grows up with, and their future connections. Sahar’s initial reaction to her parents’ choice of Hedy Dupont and Dante Le Beau was, in short, not a positive one as one would hope. Over the years, the trio had gravitated towards each other, forming unbreakable bonds in the five years spent together so far, having three more years left as roommates (Beauxbatons, unlike Hogwarts, started at the age of ten).  
Three years left to discover the secrets Beauxbatons held within its alluring walls, the elusive secret societies most of the student body believed to have died out decades ago. Oh, Sahar was sure they existed—after all, how could they not?  
“Nothing will happen to you,” Nadia said without looking up. “We’re not stupid, we’ll figure something out.”  
“I’m out of this. If you get expelled, I’ll stay here with Dante and Hedy, and you can have fun elsewhere.”  
Dante had been Sahar’s best friend at Beauxbatons since the fateful day they were placed in the same classes, involving several broken quills, feathers, and an introductory class on pens.  
“Aww, no, come on,” Nadia pouted, “Sahar,” she dragged out the syllables in her name, lowering her voice.  
Sahar pinched the bridge of her nose, giving Nadia a hard stare, “That face doesn’t work on me, you know that.”  
Nadia huffed, a momentary look of despair on her face, before her expression brightened again. She snapped her fingers, wiggling her eyebrows, a connvining expression upon her features. “How about some chocolate?”  
Sahar tried her best to remain unaffected, at least from the outside, “Depends.”  
“How about your favorite type. Hmm, what was it? Must’ve slipped my mind,” snapping her fingers once more, Nadia was lost in thought. Sahar’s mouth tightened into a thin line.  
“Chocolate cauldrons or chocolate eclairs?” Nadia had a devious expression on her face, clearly knowing what she was doing. “But what about that No-Maj chocolate you fancy? M&M’s?”  
Sahar felt her mouth water.  
She and Nadia had visited America with Dante every summer, for as long as they could remember, and the American slang began to grow on them especially when Dante would jokingly use it.  
Sahar thought Nadia might’ve had a crush on him earlier, what with her blushing and constant stuttering, but now she remained her cool, a casual look of disinterest on her face every time he appeared.  
“Merlin’s saggy left ball sack—”  
“Language!” Nadia reprimanded. “I suppose I could go and get some boxes of chocolate cauldrons and chocolate eclairs the next time we go to the shops, which should be this afternoon…” she trailed off, a thoughtful expression on her face.  
“Fine, fine, fine!” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ll do it,” she said in a resigned tone, wondering if she had signed her Death wish.  
Nadia squealed, “You’re the best sister ever!” and ran off.  
She supposed her Achilles Heel was something much deeper than chocolate but she wasn’t bothered enough to care very much. It wasn’t like it was going to come back and bite her in the ass was it?  
———  
Sahar sighed for the fifth time that afternoon as she attempted to read Catch-22, a stupid Muggle book. It wasn’t as stupid as Nadia’s favorite, Romeo and Juliet. So fucking stupid.  
She and Nadia were only fourteen years old, and had gotten expelled from Beauxbatons—on the final day of the term, nonetheless. Beauxbatons was arguably better than the school she was now supposed to attend.  
The odd thing about their birthdays was that Sahar was born on December 25th, 11:30 p.m. Nadia, meanwhile, was born half an hour later, on December 26th. They were still considered twins, however.  
“Sahar!” Nadia walked into the threshold of her room, an odd sort of grin on her face. It was kind of scary to see anyone with that wide of a grin on their face.  
“Get out.”  
Teetering on the tips of her heels, Nadia spoke, “Mother told me to tell you that James is flooing in tomorrow and you have to clean your room.”  
A confused expression crossed Sahar’s face, “She never told me that!”  
“Well, they’re coming tomorrow, so clean up this shithole.”  
“It’s not a shithole! Besides it’s fine.”  
Nadia gestured to the numerous chocolate wrappers clearly visible underneath her bed, and the piles of clothes thrown across the floor in a haphazard fashion. Not to mention, the parchment with ink splotches scattered across her white desk, and the random moving photographs of her, and Hedy, and Dante, and Nadia, and a few with James, lying in a heap somewhere on a shelf. She even had a Polaroid or two—their stillness baffled her immensely—courtesy of Dante’s No-Maj camera. A few of her favorite cassette tapes were even lying around somewhere, Hedy had gifted them to her with Dante’s help.  
“Noted. Now get out!”  
“Fine, but we can annoy James,” Nadia flipped her hair on the way out.  
James Potter was their childhood family friend, more like the brother they never had. They had known him since they were in diapers. Finding her wand, which was stuffed in the inside pocket of her Beauxbatons uniform, Sahar muttered a few cleaning spells, and set the room in order.  
She had liked the lightly colored silk uniform, she didn’t look too shabby in it, and it was a great deal better than the horrendous ones Hogwarts students wore. The Beauxbatons uniform made her look much more skinnier than in reality, another bonus.  
She shuddered at the thought of having to don one of those robes every day, with the homely knee high socks and the horridly styled skirt which was the most revolting shade of grey. Nadia expressed the same distaste for the horrendous uniforms, except more verbally.  
Sahar sighed as she turned back to her book, not really paying attention but wondering how she would be able to leave Dante or Hedy behind.  
She didn’t like Hogwarts, it was as simple as that. Sahar didn’t want to meet new people, and start a ‘new’ life. She liked the people in her life at the moment. She liked them a lot. Besides, what if no one liked her? What would she do then? What if she and Nadia were sorted into different Houses? What if James decided he didn’t want to hang out with his boring cousin? What if he avoided her?  
She decided that she liked Ilvermorny much better than she liked Hogwarts. Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons students had to spend an exchange year at the other school. They could decide when but the applications opened up starting from year three. Dante, Hedy, and her had all decided to complete their exchange year in year three, together. The Americans were different and a tad bit rude, but it’s not as if she minded very much. She knew people there and liked them and that’s what mattered.  
———  
“Sahar! Woh aa gaye hain!” Her mother yelled.  
Sahar raced down stairs, her gold earrings clinking together. She guessed it was James, and aunt Euphemia and uncle Fleamont that had just floo’ed in.  
Euphemia Potter had a petite frame, her tan skin glowed in the fading afternoon sun as she smiled warmly at Sahar. Her hair was wrapped in an exquisite maroon colored scarf, and her wrists were lined with gold bangles, her hazel eyes crinkling with happiness. Fleamont was lanky, and almost an entire foot taller than Euphemia, with much paler skin and darker eyes. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were old enough to be her grandparents.  
Sahar happily greeted them, leaning down to bestow a hug upon Euphemia, embracing Fleamont right after. James stood there expectantly, a grin on his face and his hazel eyes twinkled, his hair was messed up as ever. She was still exactly his height, about 5’6, and the thought of it made her smile. The two of them did their ‘handshake’ they had come up with when they were ten.  
To James’s left, there stood a boy that Sahar hadn’t noticed earlier. James had written letters to Sahar and Nadia, and he never seemed to tire of talking about his friends. From how much he had written about a certain Sirius Black, she could only imagine that the boy with ear length raven hair and perfect posture standing in front of her was him. He carried himself with an elegance instilled into all pureblood children from a young age.  
“I’m Sahar. I’m assuming you’re Sirius?” she took care not to say his last name, after all, she had guessed if a Black was James’s best friend, it meant he wasn’t a pureblood fanatic.  
He nodded, a smile gracing his full lips, “Pleasure.”  
Sahar nodded in reply, not knowing what else to say. She wiped her hands, which were now filled with sweat, on her jeans.  
Greetings were exchanged and suitcases were put into guest rooms. The adults settled down in the living room to talk and made requests for tea.  
Striding into the kitchen, Sahar hurriedly prepared the tea, it was the one thing she knew how to make. Maybe that was why her grandparents seemed to favor Nadia when they came for a visit. Nadia knew how to cook. She tried to convince herself she didn’t resent Nadia for it, but deep down she knew she did. She resented Nadia for being the “perfect, model child,” when she could never compete with that.  
Sahar set down the tray filled with cups of tea and a plate of cookies on the coffee table in the living room. She heard snippets of the adult’s concerning conversation, no matter how low they kept their voices, it was obvious there was something wrong.  
“It’s getting worse—”  
Sahar left the room in a hurry, not wishing to hear anymore. She practically ran up the stairs, her curly hair falling out of the meticulous bun she had tied it into, and into James’s room, leaning against the door frame. She wasn’t too surprised to find Sirius and Nadia already there, sitting on the bed, but James was lying on the floor in a heap. No one had noticed her arrival, so she took a deep breath, and masked her expression with a smile.  
“Someone do me a solid, and explain what happened,” she gestured to the tangle of limbs on the floor known as James.  
“Oh, bloody hell,” he mumbled from the ground, pushing up his circular glasses.  
Sirius grinned, his grey eyes shining in delight, “Might’ve fallen off or we might’ve pushed him off the bed, who knows?”  
“I never expected this kind of betrayal from my own blood! My own family! I expected it from Sirius ‘cause he’s a heathen, but Nadia, you’re like my sister, how could you?” James cried out from the floor.  
Sirius raised a perfect eye brow at James, “Least I don’t go crying after Lily Evans.”  
James gasped, “Mate, I do not go crying after her! She’s so bloody stuck up!”  
Sirius barked out a laugh, “Keep telling yourself that.”  
“James, we’re not even related!” Nadia interrupted.  
“We’re still family-friends, that counts for something,” he argued stubbornly, moving himself to a sitting position. He turned to Sahar, still standing in the doorway, simply observing with a grin on her face.  
“My favorite family-friend! Come sit with us!”  
Sahar fought off a smile, sitting behind Nadia on the bed, and pushing her off, at least I’m somebody’s favorite.  
“And this is why, Sahar’s my favorite,” James spoke, shooting a mock glare at Nadia who had ungracefully fallen to the floor.  
“Va te faire,” she grumbled, adjusting the folds of the white hijab she was wearing.  
Sirius snickered while James raised a brow, confusedly.  
“She said go fuck yourself,” Sahar explained, hiding her amusement behind her palm.  
“The level of disrespect,” James gasped, his hand over the left side of his chest.  
“Your heart is on the other side of your chest, dumbass.”  
“I will wash all of your mouths with soap! Including you, Sirius!” he threatened, waving a finger at all of them in an effort to look menacing. It might have worked if he wasn’t so scrawny.  
Sirius flipped James off, and Nadia laughed as Sahar said, “C’est des conneries.”  
“Bloody hell, if you speak in French one more time I will—”  
“You’ll what? Beat me up? You know I can take you.”  
James laughed, the short burst of laughter dying in his throat as quickly as it came, running a hand through his already messy hair, “Sure, anyways, you guys excited to go to the best wizarding school in the world?”  
“We just got expelled from the best wizarding school in the world—”  
“Shut up, no you bloody well didn’t. Hogwarts is the best!”  
“No, it isn’t.”  
“Sorry to disappoint, ladies, I’m gonna have to agree with James over here,” Sirius shrugged, fiddling with his fingers.  
“You can’t be serious,” Sahar gaped at him.  
“Actually, I am,” He smirked. James laughed and gave him a high-five.  
“Ta gueule, and lemme explain. Look at the ugly ass uniforms you guys wear.”  
Sirius and James gaped at her, and Nadia smirked.  
“Accio polaroid pictures,” Sahar mumbled under her breath, pulling out her wand from her bun.  
Almost instantly, her polaroids flew to her, and she snatched them out of the air, trying to find the one with them in their silk uniforms. After finding it, she waved it in front of their faces. This picture was one with her, and Hedy, taken by Dante at the beginning of this year.  
Hedy was the shortest of them all, her braids frozen midswing, her arm wrapped around Sahar’s middle, a mischievous smile on her face. Sahar was laughing heartily, her eyes a split second from closing. She remembered that day like it was only yesterday.  
It was the first weekend of the school year, and they were standing outside, wandering around the magnificent gardens Beauxbatons was famous for, when they had noticed a particular fountain in the shape of a swan. Hedy had made Dante take hers and Sahar’s picture right in front.  
“See? Compare this to the garbage you wear on a daily basis!”  
“I dunno, they look kinda girly, considering that’s the girl’s uniform,” Sirius shrugged.  
“Okay, smartass, look at this one then,” Sahar waved another polaroid, this time a moving one, having been charmed by Sahar afterwards, passing it around until it finally got to Nadia, whose shoulders tensed as she forced a smile.  
It had been taken at the end of last year, by Nadia, deeming it tradition. Sahar stood tucked under Dante’s arm, laughing. Sahar remembered how much Nadia had tried to get them to focus their attention on the camera, but Dante’s attention was fixated on telling the dumbest joke he could come up with. In the picture, his mouth moved for a brief moment before bursting into laughter, his head was bent towards her and Sahar’s focus was slightly altered, looking up at him. Dante’s dark brown hair was as tousled as ever, and Sahar had reached up to ruin it just a little more right before Nadia snapped the picture.  
“Doesn’t that look better than your robes?” Nadia asked coyly, her lips curving up as she raised her eyebrows, in an attempt to ease her tensed state.  
“No.”  
“Asshole.”  
———  
“Wake up,” James whispered loudly in his pajamas as he slipped into her room in the middle of the night, the moonlight casting a glow on him through the window.  
“Go away,” Sahar grumbled, sitting up, rubbing her eyes, her hair a mess.  
“Grab Nadia and some food—we’re gonna go sit on the roof,” he whispered.  
“Why?”  
James, to his credit, didn’t back down, but didn’t choose to answer either, instead leaving the room. Sahar grumbled as she got out of bed to go look for Nadia. She grabbed her wand off the nightstand, and tried to run a hand through her bunched up mess of hair.  
Murmuring a quiet, “lumos” Sahar padded through the long hallway, hoping to creep into Nadia’s room without being caught.  
Nadia was asleep, as expected, her long straight hair fanning out on her pillows, and her expression peaceful. Time to ruin that.  
“Nadia,” Sahar hissed, pushing her. Nadia’s room was considerably cleaner than her own.  
“Pour l'amour de Dieu, tais-toi.”  
“James wants to show us something on the roof? And he said something about raiding the pantry?”  
“I swear his stomach’s bigger than his mouth.”  
Sahar chuckled dryly.  
“So, how are we planning to get on to the roof?” Nadia continued, her habit for asking dumb questions returning, as she pulled on her favorite sweatshirt, pulling hoodie on and its strings tight to cover her hair.  
“Just use the balcony in my room, and a levitation charm, it’s not that hard.”  
“I swear to God, if I die, I’m going to kill you.”  
“Bold last words for someone not about to die.”  
Once Sahar and Nadia had grabbed a few of the snacks from the pantry, making sure to leave enough behind so that the sudden lack of food would not come off as suspicious, Sahar levitated the snacks first, as she was the better of the two at Charms, and then helped Nadia up, climbing up afterwards. James and Sirius were already waiting for them with blankets and pillows, on the roof, and at the sight of Sahar and Nadia, they scooted over to make some room.  
Because James was a light sleeper, he was as energetic with five hours of sleep as he was with ten hours of sleep. Sahar noticed that the same could not be said about Sirius, as his facial expression expressed ire directed at James. He was still sleepy, she could tell, by the way he hugged the pillow closer to his torso, burying his face in it.  
“What took you guys so long?” James asked.  
Sahar’s eyes flitted to Nadia’s, a smirk settling across her face. James’s eyes followed this movement as Sirius yawned louder.  
“Nothing,” Sahar coughed, her eyes on Nadia.  
“What’s Hogwarts like anyways?” Nadia asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
“Boring, but it’s home,” James answered automatically.  
Beauxbatons was home, she thought wistfully.  
“What—you’ve got no secret societies or the like?”  
“No?”  
“That’s it, you have to forfeit trying to get us to like Hogwarts now.”  
“So your pretty little french school has secret clubs? Big deal.”  
Sahar tuned out the rest of James and Nadia’s argument. She nudged Sirius with his foot. She had now begun to realize that she had seen him before, at one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight balls.  
A family Sacred Twenty-Eight hosted one annually, during the winter holidays every year. She had only begun to make an appearance at them, as the eldest Shafiq heir of her family, starting from her third year, when she turned thirteen. There was no doubt she had cousins—some sharing her infamous surname—scattered across Pakistan and the Middle East but Sahar hadn’t met many of them; her family line stretched far and wide. The Sacred Twenty-Eight only included Europe’s most prestigious pureblood families, and there were definitely more across the globe. However, the Shafiq family was renowned in multiple regions.  
Upon further inspection, Sahar realized she had definitely seen him before. She hadn’t ever held a conversation with him besides the customary greetings.  
“Shafiq,” he stifled a yawn.  
“Black,” she nodded. “Anything I should know before drowning myself in the Black Lake?”  
He smiled sardonically, “Ah, so you want my help in drowning in the lake named after my family?”  
“No, dumbass, just skip me the absolute pleasure of reading Hogwarts: A History,” she shuddered at the thought of paging through the mountainous book.  
“Not a fan, eh?”  
“Who would be?”  
“Evans, I suspect.”  
Not sure what to say to that, Sahar directed the topic back to the matter at hand. “Just tell me who the pricks are and how the fuck the dorms are sorted.”  
“Stay clear of Snivellus, Avery, and Mulciber for the most part. Slimy gits, they are.”  
‘Snivellus’ was the clearly not whoever’s nickname it was’s real name. Since it didn’t come close to any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight names, Sahar guessed whoever it was at least half-blood, or maybe even muggleborn. Avery and Mulciber, she had had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting both.  
She nodded, “Never liked Avery or Mulciber anyways. And the dorms?”  
“We have houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.” Sirius traced a pattern in the blanket covering him.  
“Which one are you in?” Sahar asked, scooting imperceptibly closer. There already wasn’t much space on the roof to begin with.  
“Gryffindor,” he said proudly, seemingly more awake now. “Home of the daring and bold.”  
“More like reckless idiots,” she joked.  
“You wound me, Shafiq,” his silver eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a corner of his mouth lifting up just the slightest.


End file.
